


I See Trouble on The Way

by WickedCinnamonRoll



Series: The Best Little Crossover In Texas [1]
Category: House of 1000 Corpses (Movies), The Texas Chainsaw Massacre (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Banter, Brothers, Cannibalism, Canon Disabled Character, Clowns, Crossover, Developing Friendships, Dysfunctional Family, Family Issues, Gen, Homesickness, Implied/Referenced Abuse, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Moving Out, Other, Road Trips, Starting Over, cannibals
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-24
Updated: 2021-02-24
Packaged: 2021-03-14 11:41:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,123
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29666739
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WickedCinnamonRoll/pseuds/WickedCinnamonRoll
Summary: After a close call with a recent dinner guest, the Sawyers find themselves having no choice but to move out of Newt. After their first day of traveling, they make a pitstop at the strangest gas station they've ever been in.This was just the beginning.
Series: The Best Little Crossover In Texas [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2180040
Comments: 2
Kudos: 6





	I See Trouble on The Way

**Author's Note:**

> *appears from the woodworks* hey,,,,,,,,,making another thing cause i cant do one thing at a time,,,at least this won't be a another multi chaptered fic, just a series 
> 
> This was a very Drayton centered part i guess, but ill try to make future parts where the other brothers get bigger roles

The Sawyer brothers had lived in the boondocks of Newt, Texas in their grandparents’ old home for a good twenty years at least, continuing to take care of it even after their grandma died and their grandpa couldn’t take care of himself anymore and they had it in their minds that they’d end up living there forever. After all, with all the killing and torturing they’ve been doing and not one arrest on their record or suspicious glance thrown their way, what reason would they have for thinking that it’d come to an end any time soon?

Unfortunately for them, one particularly bad dinner and near death experience left the brothers with no choice but to walk on eggshells and consider the fact that if they didn’t do something and soon, they could be caught.

One of their victims, Sally Hardesty, managed to escape in the back of a passing truck and road all the way into town, covered in injuries, delirious and out of her own right mind. Any and all publications of her story spoke of her suffering from complete hysteria and being unable to properly convey or explain what she went through, only being able to give vague descriptions of her captors and locations before breaking down into sobs. On the front page of the papers in the gas station, Drayton Sawyer, the eldest Sawyer brother, saw her picture next to the words “sent to a mental institution.” This didn’t stop from cops crawling all around Newt, asking far too many questions about this girl and her dumb friends and when Drayton went back to work after the less than successful dinner, they asked him these questions too. He was used to talking to police and usually had all the right things to say, but he couldn’t remember the last time they had let one of their dinner guests escape and now with the police having descriptions of what they looked like, however vague they may be, things were getting more and more complicated. He had to fight Nubbins tooth and nail to make sure he didn’t go off grave robbing or hitchhiking because the last thing they needed were some more teens complaining to the police about some gangly, manic hitchhiker that matched the one in Sally’s story. 

As the days passed, their meat supply shrunk and they knew they needed more people, but that damn bitch and her stories made Newt into even more of a ghost town. Their option pool for what to do was small and tensions were high in the family.

That’s when Bobby Sawyer came back from Vietnam and what a time to come back.

He knew from letters sent to him that Bubba was going by “Leatherface” nowadays due to the faces he wore and that the family was still slashing and dicing up folks in order not to go hungry, so he was ready for that at least. But from the moment he entered the house, it was hard not to notice how all his brothers were acting in the moment. 

After pulling him into a bone crushing hug the moment he laid eyes on him, all Bubba could do was pace around the house, gently hitting his palms against the side of his head and letting out scared sounding squawks and whines as he did so. All the brothers were taking things bad, but Bubba was at his worst. Horrible images flashed through his mind of him being separated from his family and put in jail, never to return to them again, wasting away behind bars, scared and alone. He’d do whatever he could to not let that happen.

Nubbins stayed practically glued to his twin’s shoulder as he fidgeted and twitched more than he normally did, bouncing his leg feverishly every time he sat down and muttering nonsensical things to himself. He was experiencing the worst case of cabin fever a person could get from being stuck in the house for two and a half weeks at most, unable to dig up or scavenge for bones for his art projects or ride around in the cars of strangers just for the hell of it.

Drayton did most of the talking, but it was more like shouting rather than engaging in pleasant conversation. Shouting about how much Bubba and Nubbins fucked up. Shouting about how much of a bitch Sally Hardesty is. Shouting about how fucked they (mostly speaking about himself) would be if the cops put together that they were the family that tortured her. Shouting about how his business would be fucked. Just everything being fucked fucked fucked! 

It went on like that for a few, tiring days until one morning when Bobby woke up to Drayton dropping cardboard boxes at the base of his bed and Nubbins’ bed in their shared room. He lifted his head, drowsy as all hell as his eyes narrowed on his older brother, wearing a no nonsense look on his face. He was silent for a moment before clearing his throat and kicking at the bedframe of Nubbins’ bed, forcing him up as well. He jumped and sat up, groaning and cursing as he harshly rubbed at his eyes with his palms.

“Start packin’ yer shit up, boys.” He said with a grime tone. “We can’t stay here much longer. This town is too damn small and the longer we stay, the quicker the pigs’ll put two and two together.”

It was a hard decision for Drayton to come to and he made it no secret to his brothers. They’ve lived there for so long and belonged to their grandparents for even longer. To them, it was the one true home of the Sawyers and everything it held made it who they were. So to leave it all behind...well, it was a good thing their grandpa couldn’t speak anymore because a shouting match between him and Drayton would’ve been a guarantee otherwise.

And just like that, in the matter of another week, everything they owned were either in boxes placed in the back of Drayton’s or Bobby’s truck or in the case of their big pieces of bone furniture, left behind. They could always make more in their new home. 

They left right as the sun began its long journey up into the sky, Drayton, Nubbins and their grandpa in one truck and Bobby, Bubba and the corpse of their grandma in the other. Drayton truthfully had no clue where they’d end up and only told Bobby to drive closely behind his truck and to trust him.

No matter if Bobby trusted his brother or not, it broke his heart to see how Bubba was taking the move. Before they got on the road, Bubba tried stalling by sitting on the porch and patting the wood of it as if to say goodbye, whimpering and sniffling loudly while doing so. When Bobby softly urged him that they had to go, Bubba feverishly shook his head like a stubborn child being told to get ready for school. 

“ _ But it’s our home, Bobby! We can’t leave! _ ” Bubba blubbered pathetically. “ _ Where will we go? What if we can’t find a new home? Will we come back? _ ”

As he listened to Bubba’s saddened rambling, he could feel his hand snake up his face, fingers creeping towards the broken seams on his scalp. He may have lived through Vietnam, but it refused to let him leave unscathed. After he got that plate in his head and he fully recovered, the medic told him he should’ve died the moment the machete cleaved into his skull. That it made no sense that he was still able to move far enough to collapse outside the camp. It made no sense...yet it happened anyways. Every night of his recovery, he had the same nightmare of being attacked in the jungle before stumbling and crawling his way back to camp, head pounding and gushing blood. He dug a single fingernail into it and began scratching lightly. But as Bubba continued, the scratching grew harsher until a stinging burn erupted from his head and he hunched over himself, hissing in pain. Only then did Bubba jump up off the porch.

“ _ Bobby, are you okay?! _ ”

“Fuck...I-I’m fine, I jus’-” 

“I am  _ done _ waiting!” Drayton finally shouted from his truck, opening the door and leaning his upper torso out, threatening to leave his spot from behind the wheel. “You nitwits both git yer asses in the truck right now or else I’m gittin’ th’ broom from the boxes and beatin’ you both raw!”

That was enough for Bubba to scurry over to Bobby’s truck and jump in before Bobby himself even had a chance to move an inch. He retracted his hand from his head and looked down at his fingers. As expected, they were blotted with blood. Groaning, he raised his head up and looked over his shoulder to Drayton. His older brother’s expression stayed cross as he turned back around and slammed the door shut, starting up the truck soon after.

Well...at least he didn’t need to be in the same truck as him.

Their first day of driving had nearly come to an end and what a truly draining day it was.

Drayton had been acting completely paranoid, never stopping unless it was an emergency and gave Bobby plenty of hell every time he pulled over so Bubba could puke on the side of the road. The youngest brother had never spent such an absurd amount of time on the road before so how could he have possibly known that he got carsick? From the few times they were able to stop, Nubbins made sure to regroup with his twin to tell him just how serious Drayton was about this move and making sure they stay under the radar. He didn’t even like Bubba getting out just to stretch his legs and be able to move again, mask or no mask, not that Bubba was interested in going inside the gas stations for any other reason just to go to the bathroom and return to the truck. So while Drayton, and sometimes Nubbins, made supply and gas runs, Bobby stayed with Bubba. He deeply loved his brother, but Bobby would be lying if he said he wasn’t itching for at least a sliver of human interaction with those outside of his family. 

A cashier to talk about the music playing in the gas station. 

A guy getting gas for his motorcycle to talk about cool cars with.

A pretty waitress at a diner to flirt with. 

Anyone.

By the time the sun was beginning to set, Bobby’s truck stayed relatively quiet aside from the radio playing at a low volume and Bubba’s snores as he sat uncomfortably curled in his seat.

Drayton’s truck was somewhat the same, only instead of music or snores, the sounds of Nubbins fiddling and playing with a switchblade kept the truck from plunging into deafening silence. It was a welcomed silence though. It certainly beat all the yelling.

“Now, don’t be cuttin’ yerself up jus’ yet, alright?” Drayton muttered as he watched from the corner of his eye. “Wait ‘til we’re done drivin’ fer th’ day. Last thing we need is some noisy sonufabitch motel clerk askin’ why yer all bloody.” 

“Yeah yeah…” Nubbins said, sighing under his breath. “Ar-Are we g-gonna leave grandpa b-behind in the tr-truck ta sleep?”

“Don’t be fuckin’ stupid.” Drayton sneered. “Once we git some rooms fer th’ night and th’ keys, one of yous can jus’ carry ‘im from the truck to a room without havin’ to deal with the clerk. Grandma though...I’ll jus’ have Bobby throw a blanket over ‘er so no one who peeps into th’ truck will see ‘er.”

Nubbins nodded to that, barely paying attention to his words. Instead, he glanced out the window and through the stray trees and through the glare the dying sunlight made in the dusty windows of Drayton’s truck, he could see a sign coming up in the distance. He sat up a bit, placing the knife flat on his hip as he squinted to see what it said.

Captain Spaulding’s Museum of Monsters and Madmen. Exit 13 off route 1 at Ruggsville.

His eyes grew wide as did his crooked smile. Still keeping his eyes glued to the sign, he shook at Drayton’s shoulder.

“Dr-Drayton! L-Look!”

“Goddamn it boy, what?!” Slowing down a bit, he looked out the window as well, face scrunching up in confusion. “The hell is that all about?”

“I d-dunno, but it looks f-fuckin’ far out!” He finally turned to face his brother. “C-Can w-w-we stop there? Please? W-We can go st-straight to a m-motel after!”

Grumbling something to himself, Drayton checked the fuel gauge. Wasn’t empty yet, but if they were going to continue driving across the state in the morning, they’d need more. “If this place doesn’t have gasoline, we’re movin’ our asses along.”

Nubbins quite literally started bouncing in his seat and squealing in excitement as Drayton rolled his eyes and began going the way the sign pointed them to. Looking back in the rearview mirror, the eldest brother confirmed that Bobby’s truck was still following close behind.

It wasn’t long until they made it to their unforeseen pitstop and actually seeing the place only got Nubbins more excited and Drayton more exhausted. 

Before them stood the bastard child of a regular old gas station and a county fair haunted house straight from hell itself. Sickly neon green lights hung above the gas pumps and the more colorful ones were on the large neon signs that stood tall and proud on top of the establishment, proudly spelling out its name for all to see. While the entrance looked like any run of the mill station, the side of it held its door in the mouth of a skeletal beast with glowing red eyes and had its walls covered in posters and signs written in bloody looking fonts, ranting and raving about all the horrors that lied within. All the while, ghastly, looping laughter welcomed the brothers in the form of a clown statue with a speaker in it placed right by the front doors outside. 

“Oh lord…” Drayton prayed grimly, hands still tightly balled up around the steering wheel. “Strike me down…”

Nubbins, of course, was eager to jump out the truck as soon as it stopped and ran over to Bobby’s truck, which was just then pulling up to the pump next to theirs. Banging his palms against the truck door, giggling madly, Nubbins was able to wake Bubba up from his nap and get a wide grin out of his twin.

“I was ‘bout to l-lay on the horn to get Drayton’s attention and ask ‘im m-myself if w-we could stop here.” Bobby chuckled, getting out of the truck to join Nubbins. “L-Looks like ya beat me to th’ punch.”

Nubbins nodded. “I-Isn’t it fuckin’ cool lookin’?! W-Wonder wh-what’s inside!” He then looked over to Bubba, just waking up. “C’mon Bubba! Y-Ya jus’ gotta c-come in wit’ us!”

While the youngest brother took a moment to rub the sleep from his eyes, Bobby’s eyes wandered to the truck side mirror and to the large bald spot atop his head, the faintest glimpses of metal peaking through the few small, clumped up holes in the skin. Apart from the spot where the plate was, he  _ did _ have some hair, but…

“A-Ah...sh-shit, Bobby, I th-think I have a, uh, h-hat in yer truck. Lemme jus’-” Bobby didn’t even need to say anything for Nubbins to go digging in the boxes in the trunk and come back a minute later with a baseball cap in his hands. “M-Maybe w-w-we can git you a...a wig or s-somethin’ after we git our new crib.”

“Yeah.” His smile returned as he placed the hat on and slipped on his round, tinted glasses from his jacket pocket. “M-Maybe one that, uh, m-makes me l-look like...like Jim Morrison! Or...or, uh...or Sonny Bono!”

“Hell yeah!” Nubbins cheered. He quickly scurried over to Bubba’s side next. “Git up, Bubba! This pl-place is l-lookin’ like a gas station f-fucked a damn circus! Th-think about the sh-shit they must got in there!”

Bubba was still somewhat tired and grumpy with this rude awakening, but getting a good look at where they were now...well, now he didn’t know  _ what _ to feel. His brother certainly seemed excited and the way he described it admittedly sounded fun, but that laughing clown creeped him out a bit. Maybe it would be better inside…

As Bubba hesitantly climbed out and Drayton and Bobby began filling up their trucks, Nubbins continued scouting the place out and reading all the signs he could see.

By all accounts, Drayton should’ve been relieved at the chance to fill up and stock up on supplies, but just standing outside with the buzzling lights and constant clown laughter sounding them gave him a migraine. Just his luck that they’d find themselves at a gas station as obnoxious and loud as his brothers. He could only imagine the kind of fruity, coked up asshole that would greet them once they got inside because he couldn’t exactly picture anyone like himself behind the counter of this eyesore. As he internally cursed the situation he found himself in, he glanced up to one of the many signs that littered the property. There were so many damn signs it was like it feared that if it didn’t have your complete, undivided attention, you’d leave and never come back. 

Fried chicken and gasoline. 

His stomach, betraying him, growled just at the thought of some good fried chicken.

“Hot damn!” He heard Nubbins hoot excitedly before rushing over back to the trucks. “Th-They got somethin’ called a ‘murder ride’! We  _ g-gotta _ go inside!” 

“Alright, alright! Just give us a damn second to fill up, alright?” Drayton said, raising his hand up to shoo him away. “It ain’t goin’ anywhere.”

While Bobby was finished relatively quickly, Drayton took his sweet time at the pump, lifting the nozzle to get every last drop and then some. Sure, it was because he was already stingy when it came to gas, but, of course, he also dreaded of what he would come face to face inside.

Eventually, he could no longer avoid the inevitable. Swallowing his pride, he followed his brothers up to the front doors.

A small bell above them rang as they pushed open the doors and walked inside and as he looked around, all of Drayton’s fears were made true.

Display cases stood at the center of the room and lined the walls, each holding something more sickly and grotesque than the last: from bones and skulls, to taxidermied animals and jars of god knows what. Above them on the walls were horror movie posters and photographs of killers’ mugshots, those who’ve committed atrocities throughout history and graphic medical oddities, as well as something called the “wall of shame.” In one display case was the preserved corpse of “The Alligator boy” and next to it, “Aqualina, the Feegee Mermaid.” It was all very elaborate and with just how much it showed off, the place must’ve been making some decent money from other loons that were into this kind of stuff. Upon thinking that, squeals of excitement from his brothers only proved as a sad reminder that today, they were the loons whose attention was caught by the mysteries of the museum. 

The twins immediately went up to the closest display cases to press their noses up against and marvel at what laid beyond the glass. As they did so, Bubba chose to stay by Drayton’s side and do all his looking from afar. That’s when the door behind the counter swung open and Drayton got to see just what kind of person it took to run a place like this.

A large, portly bald man in the middle of placing a small Uncle Sam like hat on came out, his previously vacant expression quickly fading and being replaced with a large smile that stretched across his grease paint covered face, making it more apparent that this man was made to look like a clown. And if the paint didn’t give it away, the large bowtie and comically large fuzzy buttons that went down his baggy costume certainly did.

Walking up behind the cash register, the man theatrically lifted his arms. “Ah, howdy there gents!” He greeted in a friendly tone. “What can I do for y’all on this fiiiine evening?”

Resisting the very strong urge to roll his eyes or scoff at the display of this man, Drayton drew further into the room and closer to the counter he stood behind, clearing his throat. “Oh, well, me and my brothers were just drivin’ by and this nitwit here-” He gestured to Nubbins for a moment with his thumb. “Practically begged me to stop when he saw th’ sign. Now, I told ‘im if this place didn’t have no gas or no reason to make a pit stop that we’d be back on the road jus’ like that. Lucky for ‘im...you got quite the setup here.”

The man’s smile never fully wavered, but it wasn’t mindless either. Drayton could tell he was actually listening to him, nodding along before speaking up again. “Why, thank you vera much. Yessiree, I take a whole lotta pride in bein’ much more than just a one-trick pony. I try to have it all: dead things to gawk at, things that just don’t seem possible actually  _ being _ possible, glimpsin’ into the mind of a killer and seein’ what he’s thinkin’, a ride through the fucked up history of mankind. The kids love it! And for the adults and sticks in the mud of the group...the promise of food and gas so they got a reason to stop that ain’t just for fun.”

When he put it like that, it was sort of genius. If you weren’t already into these kinds of things, what reason would you have for stopping by? But add in the idea of gas and food and they wouldn’t see it as much as a waste of a stop. And hey, maybe after actually going inside and having a look around, you might be more inclined to see what else they had to offer. As a fellow businessman, Drayton could appreciate that way of running a station.

The man continued. “But that there is a smart way to do yer travelin’: only stoppin’ fer what ya need and not all willy-nilly like. That way you don’t end up fuckin’ yerself over wit’ wasted cash, gas ‘nd time.”

“Don’t I know it.” It surprised Drayton to hear himself chuckle at that. “Suppose we ain’t in any real rush to our destination though, so don’t gotta worry ‘bout that part at least.”

“Where you boys headin’ to anyways?”

Though the man had proven himself not to be some overly obnoxious freak, Drayton still wasn’t sure just how much he wanted to share for what he assumed would just be a short pitstop interaction.

“Well-”

“W-We’re lookin’ to f-find ourselves a new p-pad.” Bobby suddenly butted in, now investigating the shelves on the walls. “D-D-Ditched our last one in Newt.”

He didn’t smack his brother upside the head the moment he said it, which in itself was quite the accomplishment on Drayton’s part, but his fists  _ did _ begin to ball up tightly at his sides. Bubba whined to himself, both at the mention of Newt and at the glare shot Bobby’s way.

“Newt, huh?” The man began, his smile shifting into what looked like a more...knowing smirk as he leaned in over the counter. “On the run?”

Those three words alone made Drayton’s blood run cold and joints stiffen faster than he had time to fully rationalize with himself. His expression remained deadpan, yet his mind raced with what that could possibly mean and how to handle it. There was no way he could’ve known. Well, the most he’d have to know was that there was a young lady that was kidnapped and tortured near Newt and that no one was arrested yet, but still. It was just a joke, Drayton thought to himself. Yeah...just a joke to keep things friendly with customers.

Drayton’s voice also remained neutral. He’s talked his way with plenty of cops before...this clown would be easy. “Nah, my own business was beginning to fail. Ain’t enough people drivin’ through the town no more. It was hard, but I figured we had no other choice but to start over someplace new.”

The clown clicked his tongue. “A real damn shame. Even before news of what happened to that girl got out- I’ve been to Newt before and honestly? It’s the dustiest, jankiest fuckin’ ghost town I’ve ever tumbled through. Ain’t nobody purposefully goin’ through it and once they realize they’re in it, you can bet yer ass they’ll be out of there like a bat outta hell jus’ like that. Yer better off runnin’ a business anywhere else.”

It stung to hear his hometown being talked about like that but...he was right. Newt was nothing to write home about in terms of locations or history or anything really. They were lucky to have made it as far as they did without moving.

“Suppose so…” Drayton muttered. 

“Huh?” Nubbins croaked, peeling his eyes off of the small collection of bones behind the glass, face twisting into a grimace. “Wh-Whatever h-happened ta ‘r-respectin’ your damn roots ‘fore y-you get a right sm-smack ta th’ face’?”

Bobby looked over to his twin, then to Drayton, a large grin spreading across his face. “Heheh, y-yeah, Dr-Drayton. If grandpa were here, he’d sm-smack ya ‘imself.”

He glared at the twins more openly this time. “That rule is fer jus’ you two, damn it!” He hissed. 

The clown cackled for a moment watching the interaction before his laughter died down and his gaze returned to Drayton, wearing a more thoughtful grease paint covered expression. “Heheh...h-huh...wait a sec...Drayton...you, uh, you wouldn’t happen to be Drayton  _ Sawyer _ , would ya?”

Ice flowed through his veins and he could feel his face grow pale and hands become clammy. How the hell did this two bit bozo the clown know his name?

“Y-Yes sir...that’s ma name.”

The man’s laughter returned, clapping his hands together. “Well shit! Ain’t that somethin’! I-I’ve heard ‘bout you winnin’ awards fer yer chili and barbeque on the radio before! And from the sounds of it, well deserved awards too.”

Just as quickly as the coldness appeared, it soon disappeared, strangely being replaced with faint blush across his cheeks at the unexpected compliment. 

“Oh...well...th-thank ya vera much. I, uh, didn’t realize those contests were put on air.” He cleared his throat again. “Since you got ma name, is it safe to assume that you’re the same Captain Spaulding named after this here building?”

“The one and only.” He said proudly. 

Drayton merely hummed in acknowledgement and watched as Spaulding’s gaze shifted over to Bubba, still standing by his brother’s side. His eyes stayed glued to his fidgeting fingers and he only looked up with a jolt when the clown directed his voice towards him.

“What about you, big guy? Penny for yer thoughts?” He chuckled at his own comment.

Looking up in his usual sheepish manner, he couldn’t stop a small whine of uncertainty from escaping past his lips upon getting a more close up look at the clown and seeing that he was looking back at him. From the semi-friendly conversation he was having with his brother, this clown didn’t seem all that bad, but his appearance and loud voice still left Bubba a bit shaken up.

“Not a big fan of clowns, are we?” Spaulding asked, making what he thought was a playful pout through yellowed teeth.

All Bubba could muster up was a stiff shrug and a short string of babbles he knew he wouldn’t understand. He honestly didn’t know what to make of clowns or really anyone outside of his family. To him, they were all equally scary.

Drayton scoffed. “This boy’s neva’ seen a clown in ‘is damn life. He’s jus’ a regular ol’ scaredy-cat afraid of his own shadow.”

“Is that so? Ah, well, better make a good first impression then, huh?” He returned his sights to Bubba. “How about this: if I manage ta make ya laugh, then you’ll know that clowns ain’t that scary after all.” 

As Bubba was beginning to shrug again, unsure of what else to do, Spaulding leaned across the counter and tugged at a string attached to his skull bowtie. The eyes of the skull lit up and began letting out a chattering noise and the clown soon joined with the same kind of sound, teeth clattering and lips pulled into a wide smile. In that moment, Bubba couldn’t help but smile and even giggle bashfully a bit. It was such a silly sight to see and hear. He must’ve been a good clown, Bubba thought, to be able to make him laugh so easily. He swore he even saw Drayton with a sliver of a grin before immediately pushing it down. He knew that if Bobby or Nubbins saw the short lasting smile, they’d be quick to point it out and tease him for it. Thankfully for Drayton, however, the twins were too busy gawking at every last nook and cranny of the place.

Proudly chuckling over getting the youngest Sawyer to laugh, Spaulding looked back to Drayton. “So, is it jus’ the gas you’ll be payin’ for or-?” 

Drayton’s luck of the twins keeping quiet then quickly ran out as Nubbins popped his head back up to interject. 

“Nah! W-We wanna go on th-th’ murder ride too!”

“Yeah.” Bobby agreed. “We wanna see wh-what it’s all about.”

“No,  _ you _ lot wanna see what it’s all about.” Drayton corrects. “But after  _ I’m  _ done payin’ fer this here gas, we’re gettin’ our asses back on the road.”

The twins immediately erupted into loud, disappointed groans and pleas for him to change his mind. As he tried to ignore them, Drayton began to pay for the gas, muttering to himself.

Unfortunately for him, it turned out the twins wouldn’t be the only ones trying to change his mind.

“Aw c’monnnnn, old timer.” Spaulding began, not even taking his money yet. “Newt’s a helluva long ways away and I’m sure you’re all sick to death of the view from the windows of your truck. What’s the harm in a lil’ fun ‘fore your day is over?”

Of course, the twins, and even Bubba out of sheer curiosity, were quick to agree with the clown.

Drayton’s scowl, though easing up a bit, still remained as he shook his head. “I dunno-”

“Tell you what: you lot take a trip on th’ murder ride and afterwards, you  _ each _ get a basket of my fried chicken absolutely free of charge.”

And just like before when Drayton first saw the sign for fried chicken outside, his stomach growled. On all their pit stops, the snacks they brought were far and few in between, Drayton not wanting to spend too much money on anything other than gas and just enough food to keep their stomachs from digesting themselves. In turn, none of the food they were able to get could be classified as a “meal” and though fried chicken alone wasn’t exactly a meal, it might as well have been their version of The Last Supper. If it so happens that his sacrifice involved going on some mysterious murder ride being steered by a clown...then so be it.

“...Okay fine.”

Through the excited cheers of his brothers, it was hard to ignore Spaulding’s own amused laughter as walks out from behind the counter to lead them to the ride, which only helped to fuel the dread gnawing at Drayton.

_ This had better be the best damn fried chicken this side of Texas, so help me God. _

This was all Drayton could think to himself as he sat in the cramped car of the dimly lit ride, watching Captain Spauldin, now dressed in a coat normal sized top hat, begin his monologue on how they were about to enter a realm of pure horror. While his own expression stayed vacant, Nubbins and Bobby were on the edges of their seat, grinning widely in anticipation. Bubba, on the other hand, looked to already be genuinely frightened by his word. Shoulders stiff and eyes wide, the youngest Sawyer gulped as the car started moving forward and the swinging doors, adorned with a picture of a devil, opened up. The air filled with the tangled sounds of whooping from his brothers and the howling of wolves. The painted face of their guide fell on Bubba and he smiled.

“Scared already, boy?”

He quickly shook his head.

“We’ll see…” He ends the ominous comment with a deep laugh.

That caused shivers to shoot down his spine and a stray whimper to get caught in his throat. He liked clowns better when they were being funny…

As they moved forward, they were met with a mockup of a small empty room with a door and the car stopped.

“Now, I wonder where our first guest is!” Spaulding huffed in false annoyance, placing a hand on his hip. “Guess we best move on to the next-”

Only then did the door of the room slam open and sliding out was a dummy made to look like an old man, which also stopped with a slam, head snapping forward with just how fast it came out. The twins jumped, but still laughed and cheered afterwards, while Bubba’s jump was followed by more shivers. Drayton was far too proud of a man to admit that he actually flinched, but it turned out he didn’t even need to admit it as Spaulding was looking right at him, grinning smugly. 

“I sure hope you don’t get  _ too _ many heart attacks on this here trip, old timer.” Spaulding laughed. “Would be embarrassing ta die thanks to an already dead serial killer.”

Grumbling, Drayton’s eyes shifted back over to the dummy as Spaulding explained that it was Albert Fish and all the horrible things he had done: sadism, masochism, torture, self-mutilation, murder...cannibalism. He’s sure he said more, yet Drayton’s ears refused to listen and soon, the car resumed moving. 

More stops, more famous killers of the past and more grim explanations of what they did followed. The twins hung onto every word the clown spoke like their lives depended on it and although Bubba was still shrunken in on himself, he seemed to be listening as well.

“Our humble lil’ tour through hell is jus’ about finished, so why don’t we make one final stop and visit a more...local legend.”

Drayton wasn’t sure why that comment was able to grab his attention. Maybe Spaulding really was a master of his craft when it came to storytelling or maybe the idea of this place being no stranger to disappearances or killings simply interested him. In any case, his previously hunched posture stiffened and he reluctantly shifted his gaze to where Spaulding was looking now.

“And that legend was named S. Quentin Quale, better known as ‘Dr. Satan.’”

As he spoke that name, another dummy, previously hunched over a medical table, sprung to life with a loud bang. As expected, it was dressed like an old doctor, its face obscured by a medical mask so only its glowing, bulbous eyes could be seen.

“Our friend Mr. Quale here wasn’t just any ol’ hacker n’ slasher. The man was a master surgeon and worked at Willows County Mental Hospital, nicknamed ‘Weeping Willows’ for the pained cries of the patients trapped within its walls. Working as an intern, he used his skills in medicine to perform unauthorized brain surgeries in order to create a race of superhumans. Once the town found out what he was doin’, they took the law into their own hands n’ dragged his ass out to hang ‘im.” 

A smile slithered onto his painted face as his eyes settled on the brothers.

“When the tree was checked the next day, his body was nowhere to be found and hasn’t been seen since. Who knows...maybe he’ll be your next neighbor.”

Following the echoed hoots and cheers of his younger brothers down the dark tunnel of the exit, Drayton soon joined them outside, where the sun was so nearly close to setting. 

“Sh-Shit man! Th-That was just as f-far out as I thought it would be!” Nubbins said, having much more of a bounce in his step than he had in weeks.

“You said it! M-My fave w-was that Dr. Satan dude.”

“Well, d-duh!” He jabbed his twin’s side rather harshly, earning only more chuckles from Bobby. “N-Not only was he a killer, he s-seemed like a-an awfully smart one too! Probably had one of th-th- one of them fancy papers you only git in schools.”

“Yeah...papers to kill!”

The twins continued to cackle and cheer before linking their arms together and running off to get the fried chicken waiting for them back at the front of the museum. Bubba glanced back at Drayton, almost wordlessly asking if he could go join them. He answered with a dismissive wave. 

By the time Drayton had entered at last, the twins and Bubba, each with a greasy basket of chicken in hand, were already out the doors. Standing in the doorway, he watched as Bobby took a seat on the hood of his truck, eagerly stuffing his face as Nubbins and Bubba joined him.

“Quite the handful, aren’t they?”

Snapping out of his short lived trance, he turned his attention to the clown behind the counter. There was a lack of any goofy hat on his head and his flashy outfit was replaced with a simple t-shirt. Either it was almost time for him to close up shop or he simply couldn’t be fucked to keep up the clown act for the whole night. But if that were the case, why’d he still have make up on?

He exhaled, shaking his head as he approached the counter. “Yer tellin’ me. Only been drivin’ fer a day and they’re already itchin’ ta go out and do their own thing. I don’t know how much longer I’ll last ‘til they send me straight to the loony bin.”

“Where did you say y’all were headin’ off to again?”

“Nowhere specific, honestly. Just...out of Newt. Suppose we’ll jus’ keep on drivin’ ‘til we find the right place.”

Spaulding grew quiet for a moment, seemingly deciding whether or not to say something. His fingers drummed against the lone basket meant for Drayton as he thought.

“Y’know-” He began. “Ruggsville ain’t too shabby of a place to settle down in. You’ve got yer suburbs, white picket fence type shit wit’ the neighborhood barbecues and if that ain’t yer style, there’s plenty of vacant country houses wit’ lotsa space just waitin’ to be moved into. Some of ‘em are dirt cheap ‘cause most people get cold feet the moment they realize they gotta deweed the lawn or repair the floorboards or anything that involves gettin’ yer hands dirty and growing thicker skin.”

Drayton couldn’t help but be suspicious. Of what exactly? He didn’t even know himself.

“Why are you tellin’ me all this?”

He lifted his hands up in a defensive manner. “All I’m sayin’ is from one small business man to another...I know how tough it is. Especially when you’ve got a family to look after. Shit, if you actually take my advice and hunker down here, I’d be more than happy to give you or one of your boys a job here.”

And just like that, Drayton was rendered speechless. He could barely believe his own eyes and ears at the offer he was just given and the disbelief must’ve shown prominently on his face as Spaulding chuckled.

“I know, I know: you don’t even know me from a hole in the fuckin’ ground, but I like you and your boys. Y’all remind me of my own family in a way and if you really don’t have a single clue of where else to go...Ruggsville is at least an option.”

The eldest Sawyer had been around on this planet long enough to know that it wasn’t that simple. Under those bizarre yet comforting words and face full of grease paint laid something else. The type of something that felt familiar to him, but he wasn’t sure  _ how _ it was familiar. Was it the homey nature of the small business that reminded him of his own gas station? The fact that he was seemingly a family man as well? Or was it a more sinister type of something? And even looking past that something, Drayton strongly held onto the belief that only by doing hard work could you reach your goals. That meant no free handouts, no accepting people’s pity money, no hiring someone else to do shit for you, none of that.

Yet...here he was, being given this opportunity.

An opportunity that didn’t involve who knows how many days on the road and wasting a shit ton of gas in the process. An opportunity to settle down someplace new, but not alienating. An opportunity for not only him to get back to working, but maybe his brothers too.

And maybe...maybe a greater opportunity for meat.

Spaulding was right when he called Newt a wasteland of sorts. Over the years, less and less people were driving through it, which meant less and less dinner guests. But if Ruggsville was any better…

“I’ll think about it.” Drayton finally answered in an airy tone.

Spaulding chuckled again, sliding the basket of chicken over to him. “Be sure to eat all this  _ before _ you make up yer mind. It has a vera strong influence on folks.”

He rolled his eyes, but nonetheless, took the basket from him.

“Y’all have a good night, alright?”

“Yeah, you too.”

Upon leaving the building, he was greeted once again with the crisp air of the fast approaching night time. The steam rising from the chicken intensified, refusing to go unnoticed and as Drayton went to join his unruly brothers, he allowed himself a bite of it. 

_ I wonder if workin’ there would mean free food like this all the time. _

_ … _

_ Shit...he wasn’t lying. I played right into his trap. Clever damn clown... _


End file.
